


This Big World Has Kept Us Apart (Or Maybe We're Just Stubborn)

by BlueSkyeEyes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe-soul mate, Angst, Brooding, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Plot Twists, Soul Bond, porn what porn/plot without porn, soul mark, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkyeEyes/pseuds/BlueSkyeEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows the story about love. Everyone’s had it happen to a distant cousin or a friend of a friend. Everyone knows that once you meet your soul-mate, you never need anyone else, because they are your everything. You meet, fall in love, live happily ever after. That is the story everyone knows. But this is not that story.</p><p>True Love or Real Love. Ever since Stiles was a child he had wondered which he should pick. Fate or free choice. A decision that, once made, cannot be taken back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Big World Has Kept Us Apart (Or Maybe We're Just Stubborn)

**Author's Note:**

> I watched TiMER last night, and had this plot bunny in my head bothering me, so I decided to scribble this down quickly and be done with it! Lemme know what you think! I stole the name McHale from linksofmemories series The Rory to My Amy, because I'm in love with the story, so all props to her for that!

It had been two years. Two years since Stiles Stilinski looked down and saw the words inscribed on his arm. He was just as certain now as he was then that he would never find this mysterious ‘one’ he was destined to be with. The idea was silly, anyway. That some predestined soul-mate would someday meet you and you would live happily ever after, without a care in the world. Media advertised this, books tried to sell it, Hallmark coined it as their trademark, but Stiles refused to believe.

Maybe it was because his mother had died when he was so young, leaving his father to mourn her for the rest of his life, their so-called ‘soul-mate bond’ destroyed by her death, or maybe it was because he had never been lucky in love. Either way, Stiles had never gone looking. In some ways, he felt better off not knowing. Better off without the pressure and expectations put on those who had functional relationships with their soul-mates.

Scott had gotten his soul-mate early on. At least, he had found her. She had never really found him. Allison’s determination to reject reality, to ignore fate, had stood between them. Time and time again she’d been dated, and screwed over, and thrown to the curb by men who couldn’t care less, all because she was afraid of having someone pre-destined to spend forever with her. Scott told Stiles he was worried that this would become him, too, but Stiles brushed it off. He believed in fate, just not playing its game. 

“You know, maybe you should join one of those dating services where you post a picture of your words to the site with your phone number and whoever says the words in a way that makes you feel a spark is your soul-mate.” Kira had suggested. Stiles nodded, but didn’t answer. He felt no need to subject himself to random strangers practically defiling a part of him that was sacred. He didn’t think she would be a reasonable person to take advice from, anyway. She hadn’t found her soul-mate either. 

Most of his friends hadn’t found their matches, but Stiles didn’t think they cared. Aiden hadn’t even gotten his words yet. Some people didn’t until they were in their forties—or even later! Stiles had never heard of another person who actively refused to search out their soul-mate, though. Hell, even Derek ‘raccoon-made-a-nest-on-my-face’ Hale had found his soul-mate. From the stories Cora had told they’d been young and in love for a few short months until her life was tragically cut short by an explosion in the boiler room of the high school, fire spreading to the music room she’d been practicing in and melting everything but the brackets from her cello’s bow. At least, that’s how Stiles thinks the story went. He’d stopped listening after, “Oh yeah, Derek found his soul-mate ages ago.” Not that he really wanted to think about Derek. The man hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. 

“Stiles, come on!” Scott would beg. “Come to this singles mixer Allison invited us too, maybe you’ll meet someone!” He would get down on one knee and pout at Stiles to tell him what his words said, but truth be told, Stiles didn’t know. The first week his words had started to appear, blurry and smudged, he had begun asking around trying to determine which of his friends it might be. He knew this was stupid, even though the odds that your soul-mate would be someone close to you or close to someone you knew were very high, that didn’t mean it always happened that way. Sometimes your soul-mate could live across the world, or be in prison, or even dead. None of the people he asked had known anyone, though. He had kept his fingers crossed, the entire week, waiting for Cora to stop by the library where he held his after school job so he could ask about Derek. 

She finally came in on a Saturday. Exactly one week from when his words had first started to itch their way to the surface of his skin. He knew that typically the one week mark was the first you would make out your words clearly, but he’d wanted to wait. Wanted to hold on to the small chance that Derek could be his one. Even though Derek hadn’t been his match, meaning he was free to find his so-called ‘perfect mate’, he hadn’t looked at his words. He hadn’t even worn anything except for long sleeves in the past year and six months. He dressed in the dark, wore jogger’s sleeves when he was forced into something other than a button-down, and resolutely ignored all talk of blind dates. He was satisfied, or so it seemed. He had a nice girlfriend, even if she wasn’t his soul-mate, and a good job. He just wasn’t happy.

Some might call it moping. He wasn’t, though. He was simply growing used to the idea that life wasn’t good to nice people. His parents where prime examples of that. So was Scott. The people who deserved a soul-mate the most rarely got one. At least, that was how Stiles saw it. How else could you explain Derek Hale having a soul-mate who’d loved him and Scott McCall being strung around by some girl who didn’t want to settle down? Little did he know his life was about to change.

The door to the coffee shop swung open. Stiles looked up. It was Isaac’s first day on the job, and he didn’t want him overwhelmed. The poor kid could have a mental breakdown  
from looking at a spoon! (“Shut up Stiles, that only happened once! And it was a fork…” “Whatever, you still started crying over the silverware,”) a quick glance his way told Stiles the taller man was okay. It was just Allison. Stiles rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, Stiles just disapproved of how she operated. She chased after Isaac, perusing him to the point where he was in tears but running away as soon as he showed any interest, and ignored Scott. Well, she didn’t ignore Scott, she took him places, hung out with him, had stupid drunken sex with him, but she refused to acknowledge that they were soul-mates. 

The lunch line began to grow, stressed out employees rushing to get food before they were hurried back to their monotonous nine-to-five jobs were filling every corner of the café. Stiles sighed and grabbed an apron. He didn’t work there, just came in to eat every day, but McHale’s Coffee and Treats was severely understaffed. That was partially due to Scott and Cora never being able to agree on who to hire, so they were permanently subjected to asking friends to help out. Stiles was just about ready to hand in his resignation. Oh wait, that’s right. He didn’t have a resignation to hand in, because he didn’t work here! No one from the workers union knew that, though, Stiles realized as the heavy set construction crew shot dangerous glares his way. He might as well work here for free if it meant keeping all his limbs. 

He dried his hands on a dish towel. “What can I do for you?” He asked, wary of the answer. The foreman only smiled. “We have an order to pick up, under the name Reyes?” Stiles froze. This was not good. “Reyes, like ERICA Reyes?” 

“The same. Two dozen club sandwiches and a tomato basil on rye.” Stiles felt his heart stop (again). That wasn’t even a dish they served here, the last person to ask for it had been—Stiles refused to say his name. Or even think it, ever. Mutely, he handed over the lunch bag and offered a small smile to the workers. Erica had moved off somewhere with her fiancé after graduation, and Stiles had heard rumor that Derek had followed to help her start her company, but he didn’t know what the business was. Maybe it was a different Erica Reyes who ran a construction company and had an employee who liked tomato basil sandwiches on rye bread. Stiles scoffed. As if.

This became a regular occasion. Dirty men tromped through the café every day, leaving footprints and taking enough grain to feed twelve families in India. Never once did the woman herself enter the shop, though. Stiles found himself slightly grateful. She was terrifying on a normal basis, but he couldn’t imagine how she’d be when she had to act tough enough to keep a bunch of three-hundred-pound guys in line. He began helping out at the café on an everyday basis. Come in, get his lunch, don an apron begin serving orders. He could tell Isaac was grateful for the help, even if Cora shot him disapproving glares and Scott gave him confused puppy eyes. Cora stopped the glaring when he asked if she’d rather he worked for money, and Scott would never stop looking like an injured puppy, so Stiles wasn’t worried. 

One particular afternoon, everyone else had vacated the store, leaving Stiles to clean up and close up. The tinkling of the bell interrupted an otherwise quiet late afternoon, Stiles listening to ‘The Wanderer’ on his IPod shuffle playlist. “I’m sorry; we’re closed, no more coffee,”

“I didn’t come for the coffee; all though I’m sure it’s good.” The familiar woodsy voice stopped Stiles in his tracks. His arm continued to wipe down the counter, but his fingers had dropped the cloth long ago. He spun around, both hopeful, and full of dread. “Hi,” He breathed, feeling silly, but finding himself unable to say anything else. Derek gave a small smile; hands tucked into the front of his jeans pockets. “Hey, figured I’d stop by and see how Cora was,” Stiles knew this was a lie. Even without the obvious twitch Derek developed when he lied, Stiles would still know that Cora cc’d Derek on all of her emails, work or otherwise (Stiles had begun to think she just didn’t know how to UN-copy him from the list, but he was too afraid of her to say anything about it), so Derek had to know her schedule.

“Oh, cool.” He fumbled with the rag, determined not to look at Derek. The rag dropped to the floor. He ducked down to retrieve it; heavy footsteps followed him behind the counter, the bigger man crouching down beside him and covering Stiles’ warm hand with his own. “Here you go.” He carefully guided Stiles up with his grasp on his elbow, nimble fingers clutching the cloth Stiles had dropped. His beautiful grey-green eyes watched Stiles carefully. He knew the staring should make him feel uncomfortable, but instead a warm sensation spread through his body, like melted butter on artichoke leaves. He didn’t want to let go of it. “I’ll see you around, Stiles.” A full minute passed after the door swung shut before Stiles regained his motor functions enough to stop staring wistfully at the spot the older man had been. All he could think was how he never wanted to hear anyone else say his name ever again. Maybe true love did exist, after all.

Xxxx

He didn’t mean it. He really didn’t. It had just come blurting out like the thousands of other things he’d yelled at her without really thinking. The word vomit hadn’t stopped. He couldn’t stop it. And it had ended with Heather walking right out of his life, his girlfriend of nine months finally too fed up with all of his shit to keep trying. Or at least that’s what he thinks she was saying. The rushing sound of anger building up in his ears had distracted him from really paying attention to another lecture. It just kept growing until— “Well, it’s not like you’re my soul-mate!” She had recoiled like he hit her. Stiles immediately wished he could take it back, but nothing could change the truth. She wasn’t his soul-mate, he has sure of that. She couldn’t see her words, scrawled across her lower back, right next to her spine, and he had never looked at his own, so there was no way to tell for certain, but it hadn’t felt right. She had been okay with him not wanting to look, she had been okay with being with him without knowing, but it was understandable that this would be too much. What girl wanted to be stuck with a man who couldn’t promise to love her forever when there was one out there who could?

At least Derek made good on his promise. He did see him later, even if it was much later. Three weeks was far too long when Stiles was counting the hours since they’d last met. Derek was clearly not very good at keeping time. Six o’clock in the evening, by rights Stiles should have been gone, but he couldn’t help sticking around until the last second possible in hopes of catching a glimpse of the man he’d been dreaming of. “I hope it’s not too much to ask, but the last time I was in here I forgot to pick up the coffee my sister asked for; do you think I could get one this time?” Stiles snickered to himself. He knew Derek could have chosen any coffee shop from here to the trans-Atlantic railway and they would have given him free coffee, but his coming in here must mean he wanted to see Stiles as much as Stiles wanted to see him. Stiles jumped at the chance to get Derek alone for a few minutes.

“Of course!” He mentally slapped himself. “I mean, of course it’s no trouble, not of course it is trouble, because…” He trailed off, losing track of his thoughts at his first sight of Derek’s 1000 watt smile, focused fondly on him, and only him. It made Stiles want to melt. He busied himself with the drink, trying to ignore the feeling of Derek’s eyes on the back of his head. 

“How are you? How was your day?” Small talk was good, he could do small talk. “Better now that you’re in it,” Maybe he couldn’t do small talk. Derek chuckled. “Sorry, too much? I’ll back off. What’s it like to work at a coffee shop?”

“I actually don’t work here. When Scott and Cora opened it, they refused to hire anyone because they couldn’t agree on who they wanted, so a lot of the slack fell to me when things got busy. And now I kind of find it relaxing.” Stiles shrugged. He found it difficult to express his feeling to people sometimes, not because he didn’t have enough words, but because he had too many. Derek seemed to understand everything he was trying to communicate, though, and let it go with an understanding smile. 

“So where do you actually work?” Stiles took his time with this question, squirting whipped topping on Derek’s coffee and sealing it with a lid before he even opened his mouth. “At the school library, you know the one right next to Beacon Hill’s Community College? I work there after class on weekends,” Derek’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle, graciously accepting the coffee cup.

“You must be a terrible student! Most teachers refuse to work weekends,” Stiles felt his cheeks turn bright red. That hadn’t been what he meant! “No, I’m taking some extracurricular activities to help get scholarships’; I’m not a bad student!” He was tempted to swat a hand towel at Derek, but they didn’t really know each other well enough for him to do that. They were actually closer than they’d ever been. An odd thought that struck Stiles hard in the chest, practically knocking the wind out of him. He smiled at Derek, feeling like a teenager again, finally getting up the nerve to talk to his crush (although that never happened when he was a teenager, so he had no real experience on the feeling.) But in that moment he felt brave enough to do what he hadn’t years ago. He leaned over the counter towards Derek.

“I know this is odd, because your sister owns a coffee shop and all, but would you maybe want to go get some coffee sometime? It’s fine if you don’t, I totally get it, I just wondered…..” He trailed off, unsure of what, if anything, he was going to say. Suddenly it didn’t matter, because Derek was giving him the smile that looked like a thousand suns exploding at once, and he knew he was getting a date from this man. 

“Can I pick you up tomorrow at six? We’ll go have dinner someplace nice,” Stiles nodded, giddy with the knowledge that Derek Hale had just agreed to go out with him, the very same man who’d ignored him for two years and three days. But who was counting. Stiles certainly wasn’t. In fact, if you’d asked him in that moment, he would have said ‘What years?’ because Stiles Stilinski was falling utterly and hopelessly in love with someone who he’d given up hoping on years ago. Maybe, just maybe, his faith in love was being restored. 

Xxxx

Stiles spritzed on cologne. Then he sprayed some more. Then he changed his shirt so he wouldn’t smell like a men’s perfumery, and started all over again. He had missed Derek over the years, but more than anything he wished they’d gotten to know each other better in the first place (not that Stiles thought that if Derek had known him well the first time around that they’d be doing this today, but, who knows.)  
His phone buzzed on the bench at the end of his bed, he jumped and scrambled for it, hastily picking up. “Hello?” He knew he sounded breathless, but he was really, really, nervous. “Hey Stiles, I’ll be there in a few, okay?”

“Yeah, of course! See you soon!” Stiles grabbed his suit jacket and hurried down the stairs to greet Derek in his beautiful black sports car. It was nearly as pretty as the man himself. Derek was dressed in jeans and a Henley, the only thing Stiles had ever seen him wear other than (once, briefly) a pair of swim trunks decorated with Winnie the Poo. He suddenly felt very conspicuously overdressed. “I, uh, thought you meant somewhere nice,” he explained sheepishly, worried Derek would get fed up and leave. 

“That’s okay. We are going somewhere nice,” Stiles felt himself relax. He guessed he shouldn’t really have been surprised at Derek’s choice of clothing. He could probably dress like a rodeo clown and still eat free at any restaurant from here to Kalamazoo. 

The wonderful car pulled itself up to a little park that had an honest-to-god duck pond with a little bridge across the middle. A picnic had been set up under an oak tree, complete with a checkered blanket and a basket of food. Two wine glasses rested next to the wicker basket. Stiles felt his jaw drop. This was more than anything anyone had ever done for him. It was incredible. “Jeez, Derek. You weren’t kidding when you said it was nice.” Derek looked uncharacteristically pleased with himself, and motioned for Stiles to sit down on the towel. 

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little bit of everything,” He began to unpack things from the basket, smoked salmon sandwiches, sea salt and vinegar potato chips, seedless watermelon, shrimp skewers, roast chicken, and cupcakes. Stiles was salivating from the first item. “You really do know the way to a man’s heart!”  
They sat and talked and enjoyed the delicious food that Derek (grudgingly) admitted to having made. Stiles unabashedly tried to convince him to get a job at McHale’s café. He politely declined, saying that he’d rather visit the employees than be one. Stiles could feel the wall he’d put up around his heart start to drop, just a little, as he got to know Derek better. 

Over the course of the next few months they went out nearly every week, sometimes twice a week. Stiles was happier than he’d been in nearly fifteen years. Until Stiles brought up something about soul-mates, just a mention of Scott and Allison, but Derek had shut down completely. He’d been strangely silent the entire ride home, and he hadn’t even given Stiles a goodnight kiss, something he’d done every night for the past six dates. Stiles climbed into bed and spent the night worrying.

The rest of the week was a blur. In fact, it seemed as though the rest of his life would be a blur unless he saw Derek again, the only thing that gave him clarity in an otherwise unsure world. He felt as though he were counting the minutes until he saw Derek again, tapping each one down with a finger, or errant pencil. Scott asked him to hang out, he said he was busy. Isaac called to find out how his date went, he didn’t pick up. Lydia rang the doorbell, insisting he let her in so she could make sure he hadn’t slipped in the bathtub and hit his head, he pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep. Nothing could distract him from his life’s mission—waiting for Derek’s call. 

His friends tried to get him out of the house, tried to get him to do something, but his bed was calling to him now more than ever. It wasn’t until Erica called him for the first time in, well ever, to tell him that it was the anniversary of Derek’s soul-mate, Paige’s death, and that she was sure Derek was sorry and would call him, but just not this week. Stiles knew this was supposed to reassure him, but it did nothing of the sort. How was he supposed to compete with someone who had held Derek’s heart so intimately, someone who had lived so long ago, but was still so special to Derek? It wasn’t as if he was Derek’s soul-mate! 

“You might be.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at the small girl. Kira shrank into herself. Stiles knew she was afraid of him (she was afraid of nearly everyone and everything, though, so it wasn’t really saying much) and he felt bad, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from using it to his advantage. She swallowed and went on. “I know it’s rare, but sometimes after your soul-mate dies you can get another one. A sort of second-chance,” Stiles knew it was rare, so rare, in fact, that it had only happened once in the past hundred years. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though. He could only hope. 

“Maybe you should go find out, just clear it up once and for all,” The young woman suggested, shrugging carelessly and knocking over a porcelain mug full of tea. She apologized and took that as her que to leave. Stiles quickly mopped the mess up, hoping to get it before it seeped in and stained the carpet. He was only renting, after all. He couldn’t seem to get her words out of his head, though. He was certain that nothing could change how he felt about Derek, and knowing could only make things better, right?  
Stiles decided that he didn’t care. If Derek was his soul-mate, if he had a soul-mate out there who was as perfect for him as Derek, he deserved to know. He jumped in his car and sped off, not thinking about the consequences, unaware that his life was about to change yet again. Fate was not quiet done meddling with him.  
Xxxx

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?” Stiles scuffed his shoe against the wooden boards of Derek’s front porch. “I wanted to see you, I wanted to know, to know—if…” He could see the understanding dawn on Derek’s face. The knowledge that this was really happening made Stiles’ head spin. What had he been thinking?

“Maybe you should come in.” Derek pushed the door open wider, allowing Stiles to slip under his arm and into the vast expanse that he called a living room. It was ungodly how much space one human being needed, but Derek filled the space nicely. It was comfortable and cozy, with just a small hint of—oh god Derek was taking his shirt off.  
He wasn’t though, not really. He was just pulling the hem up to show Stiles the words etched across his hipbone. Stiles wasn’t close enough to see what it said, though, and when  
he moved closer to read them Derek dropped his shirt back down. “Why are you here, Stiles?”

“I wanted to know if we were soul-mates, if you were mine, if you were going to be taken from me by somebody…” Derek sighed and scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face. “No you didn’t. You wanted to know if there was someone out there who was better for you. You’re trying to figure out if you really want to be with me by putting your heart, your faith in some little words that mean nothing!” Derek lowered his voice to a more reasonable inside tone. “You’re going to risk this because there might be somebody out there who’s better for you than me? I don’t think that’s possible!” Stiles could see Derek on the edge of it, of saying if, of feeling it, of meaning it, and it scared him. He started talking at once, hoping that it would divert Derek from saying the three words that meant everything, but still nothing without the other most important words. 

“Derek, please. It doesn’t matter, really! I just want to know if it’s you. I pick you either way, but I want—I NEED to know!” Stiles pled. He could see Derek’s resolve breaking down, and he felt bad for abusing his powers over Derek, but he needed to know. He needed some certainty that this was real, and right. “Did you get different words after Paige? Can there be someone else?” He felt the words he’d wanted to ask since he first saw Derek come tumbling out of his mouth. “Is it me? Is that why you left when I got my words? Why you stopped talking to me? Why did you run away?” Derek’s internal struggle came to an end, the battle that had been playing out across his face washing into a blank, neutral expression. 

“I ran away because the first words you ever spoke to me, the first thing you said, was the exact same thing she said to me. It scared me.” Stiles felt his heart beat quicken with hope, did this mean—? “But she was your soul mate? Why did it scare you? That meant I could be, too.” He could feel himself arguing with Derek, trying to convince him to right a two-year-old wrong, for some unknown reason. All that mattered was what happened between them now—not in the past. 

“Because she wasn’t.” And just like that Stiles’ world was thrust apart into a million different tiny little pieces. Paige wasn’t Derek’s soul-mate. And that meant he wasn’t either.  
That meant he wasn’t Derek’s one. And Derek wasn’t his.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you! I still want to be with you. I wanted to be with you two years ago, and I want to be with you now. Nothing has changed.” But for Stiles everything had changed. Not his feelings for Derek, but the reason he felt them. This was the Real Love he’d heard about. He thought that what they had was True Love, but it wasn’t. 

“Maybe this can be just as good, yeah? Neither of us know what True Love feels like, so can we please give it a go? Please?” Stiles gave Derek a watery smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t think so. I need some time to think, okay?”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t change anything! It doesn’t for me; please don’t let this change how you feel!” Derek called after him as he ran from the apartment. He really wished it was that simple. 

xxxx

“You need to call him. You’ve spent the last four days here, alone, sulking. All because the big hunky man who wants you isn’t your soul-mate, and he doesn’t care. Also he might love you.” Lydia rolled her eyes, hands clasped in her lap as she shifted to a more comfortable perch on the edge of the bed. “That seems reasonable. Come on, get up!” She yanked the covers off and rolled him out of bed with a deft flick of her wrist. “You don’t understand. You’ve only ever had Jackson. He’s the only person you’ve ever been with, the only person you ever want to be with,”

“Stiles that’s different, please. Let’s not get into this right now.” But Stiles wanted too. He much preferred making fun at Lydia over her soul-mate situation than talking about his own. “No, let’s! You wanna talk soul-mates, Lydia? Well how about yours? Your soul-mate who’s matched to another person. How does that make you feel? Knowing that he’s supposed to be with someone else? Knowing that Danny’s still his best friend, even though they’re matched. Knowing that yeah, maybe Jackson picked you now. But what about later? Maybe he’ll change his mind and pick Danny. Fate over Free Choice Lydia! What’dyou think’ll win out!?” Lydia slammed her purse down on the bed stand table, unable to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. Stiles knew he should feel bad, but he didn’t. He felt strangely satisfied. 

She didn’t say another word, instead choosing to arch an eyebrow and tip the vase of flowers he’d gotten three months ago and forgotten to toss out all over his bed. She didn’t give him a chance to respond, either. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and stormed out. He knew he should go after her and apologize, but he couldn’t make himself move. He missed Derek, and felt bad about everything he’d said, but who knew if it was too late to make amends? Derek might never want to speak to him again!  
Stiles pulled himself up off the mattress and hurried to shower the plant muck off. It wasn’t something he normally did, but maybe Scott had some advice he could ask for. 

All Scott had to say was to make sure and wash behind his ears. “I don’t know, dude. That’s what my mom always tells me,”

“What else does your mom tell you, Scott? Anything helpful?” 

“Well, no. Not really. Except to make people who are upset warm tea. Do you want some tea?”

“No I don’t. That would require you coming in here and seeing me naked, so I’m gonna pass.” He could hear Scott sigh on the other end of the phone. “Just promise me you aren’t gonna stay in there forever, okay? Either move on, or talk to him about it.”

Stiles chose to do neither. He went back to work at McHale’s, but didn’t move on. He left Derek’s number in his contacts list, but didn’t call him. In short, he went on living a half-life for the rest of the month. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but there’s a shortage of customers and you look like you need the tips,” Derek motioned to the tip jar stationed at the cash register, two lone pennies and a dollar bill lying forlorn and forgotten on the bottom. Stiles turned to him, hopefully. “Derek, you aren’t going to pay me to talk to you.” He breathed, unable to believe his luck. Derek had come to find him. He had said horrible things, and Derek still came to him. Real Love was better than True Love. Fate was overridden by Free Choice. 

Derek cleared his throat. “I came to say I’m sorry about the other night. I want to be with you, and I hope you feel the same,” Stiles blinked. Here was Derek, offering up his heart on his sleeve, praying that Stiles would feel the same. It made Stiles feel powerful and distraught at the same time. He had to choose. True Love or Real Love. Somewhere out there was his perfect person, his true match. He studied Derek carefully, smile on his face despite the crease between his eyes. This man loved him for who he was, not who he was pre-destined to be. “I…..do.” He nodded, voice growing louder the more sure he was. “I do feel the same! I want to be with you, I want Real Love. I choose Real Love.”  
Derek’s face looked like it might split in two his smile had grown so wide. “Good.” The rest of the evening was perfect. A fairy tale ending for a fairy tale romance. Everything Stiles had been looking for in the place he least expected to find it. 

It wasn’t until one night, nearly three months later, curled up on the couch together, when Derek asked him to unbutton his shirt and let him see his words that he even thought about it again. “Okay, if you don’t want me to see will you at least tell me? You know what mine say,” Stiles smiled fondly as he remembered the phrase, even though he hadn’t been the one to say it, he still felt a strange appreciation for this invisible mate of Derek’s who would be so witty. ‘I’d tell you to take a picture, but I’m not sure I want you to have a portrait of my face. I don’t trust you not to sell my organs for money,’ the words were small, neat block letters carved into Derek’s hip. Derek gave him a look. 

“Right, sorry. I’ll just show you,” He reached down and slowly unbuttoned the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled it back, showing the best kept secret of his life to Derek Hale. Derek gave a short laugh. Stiles felt a twinge of irritation build. “What? They can’t be worse than yours!” He peered down at his arm. “Well, they definitely aren’t the worst words I could have gotten,” (that honor would have to go to Scott and Allison, the owners of ‘I’m sorry, how much did you say this dog laxative was?’ and ‘wait, lady, your ugly scarf is caught in the door!’ respectively), “But they certainly aren’t the best!” The both snickered and returned to watching their movie, satisfied that love had found its place in their hearts. Real Love, not True Love. Free Choice, not Fate. Stiles was happy to know that no matter what, Derek would love him. Even if it he wasn’t soul-mate love. Soul-mates were over-rated anyway.

Xxxx

Nearly four years after getting his words, Stiles Stilinski finally felt comfortable to walk around with his words on his wrist, barred for the world. It was….nice. Different, and easy. He felt carefree knowing that no matter what, he had Derek, and it didn’t matter what some words written on the side of his arm said, because that was Real Love. He had a good job, a steady boyfriend, and for once, his friends were happy too. Scott had gotten Allison to agree that he was her boyfriend, Lydia and Jackson were as steady as ever, un-swayed by Stiles’ yelling match that afternoon in his bedroom (she’d eventually forgiven him for that, it had taken a lot of chocolate, but as the Christmas holiday rolled around and she helped him pick presents for everyone he grew very glad that he’d taken the time), and even Kira was satisfied being alone. The only thing left for Stiles to do was take the train to the final interview and he would have landed the job he’d wanted for ten years; Head of Research and Programming at the L.A. Times. 

He’d gotten up early to surprise Derek with breakfast in bed, and then run out of the house to ensure he’d be to the interview early. With his car in the shop, and Derek refusing to let him drive the Camaro so early in the morning he’d have to take the train, but he didn’t mind. His life was finally falling into place. He book-marked his novel and stashed it under a granola bar and some cherries in his backpack. His train would be there in five minutes.

“Excuse me? Can you tell me how to get to the ‘E’ train?” The words rang with a truth that seemed unbefitting of such a simple sentence. A tall woman hurried behind him, long brown hair swinging in the breeze. She stopped right next to him, her lovely eyes shy and eager. Her gaze seemed to be fixed on something, his coat sleeve, maybe. He found himself staring back at her, a feeling of familiarity washing over him, soon followed by another wave of shock. He swallowed, tracing her eyes path down his arm to the cuff of his rolled up blazer sleeve, the beginning letter of his words was covered by the un-ironed mess, the words she had just spoken etched there like they needed proof that this was real. They stood staring at his arm together, bonded in that moment of utter clarity. This was his soul-mate, and he was hers. A feeling of peace washed over him even as the thoughts cluttered his mind.

“I’m Malia,” 

“The train’s that way. Also, I’m Stiles.” She had a smile that made his heart skip a beat. He took her hand. “I’ll show you.” 

True Love or Real Love? He had to choose. He had to choose which train to take, both literally and metaphorically. He had given up the hope of finding True Love years ago, knowing it was a foolish dream to hope that a tattoo would tell you you’re perfect match, and settled for Real Love, never thinking of it as inferior, simply different. But watching the woman beside him light up at his touch, he thought about Real Love as second best. And in that moment he knew. He knew he was lost to Derek forever. So he took a deep breath and chose. 

“Here you go,” He was a little saddened by the thought of seeing her go, of never meeting her again. She stared at him for a moment. “Do you want to, maybe, come with me? I have an extra ticket to go to Chicago, my roommate bailed on me last minute. So if you’re free…” Stiles felt his heart jump. This was his chance. He could have a new life, a new everything. She was his soul-mate, and he was hers. They were meant to be together. He took a breath and looked back over the city. He had heard stories of people doing reckless things when they met their soul-mate, stupid dangerous things that sometimes got them killed, but he knew, deep down, that this was a good idea. That this was meant to be. 

He grabbed the train door’s railing and made to heave himself in. The blaring of his phone stopped him. ‘The Wanderer ‘played loudly from his pocket, the ringtone he’d given Derek in honor of their first ‘real’ meeting. He stopped himself, letting go of the train door and falling back onto the platform. What was he doing? Was he really giving up everything he had with Derek to follow some woman he didn’t know, someone he didn’t even know if he liked across the country? And for what? He stared at the cracked plastic screen, Derek’s smile lighting up the caller ID. He chose Derek. He always would. Free Choice over Fate. He stepped even further back. “I’m sorry; I’ve got somewhere to be.” He turned around, and walked in the opposite direction. Not listening or caring as she called after him, trying to convince him to stay. 

He put the phone up to his ear. “Hey baby, what’s up?” Derek might not be his soul-mate, but he was the perfect person for him. And Stiles would choose Real Love over True Love any day. Especially when True Love looked more like someone else telling him who he should love. Finally, finally, he had his happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys like it? Was there anything that didn't make sense to you? leave me a comment and tell me anything! Comments make my day!<3


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